Momentarily
by FemaleSpock
Summary: It was just a tiny snapshot of a time inaccessible to him, more distant than any planet on the edges of the Galaxy.


Momentarily 

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Galactik Football and I make no money from this fanfiction.**

**Set in the sometime in early Season 3. **

Rocket shuffled about, awkwardly, hands in pockets. Artegor's office wasn't exactly his natural habitat; being there made him feel slightly uncomfortable for whatever reason. He wouldn't have been there at all had Artegor not asked him to meet him there- to talk about something, Rocket assumed it would a lecture berating him about some fault in his play or other. Although, why Artegor hadn't just told him about it in front of the rest of the team, like he usually did was beyond him.

The even bigger problem was that Artegor wasn't actually in his office, he was late (unusually for him), leaving Rocket waiting for him there.

So he decided to have a little look around- it was only natural and there was nothing that bad that Artegor could have lying around in his office. Artegor wasn't even there most of the time; he spent most of his time in Aarch's office rather than his own.

The first thing that caught Rocket's eye was a rather inconspicuous bottle of what (upon smelling it) appeared to be whiskey. It was to be expected, really, Rocket had heard that Artegor liked a drink…or two…although he personally had never witnessed Artegor drunk and mysteriously neither had anyone else. Personally, Rocket couldn't stand the stuff; he'd stick to white wine rather than dabbling in harder stuff (as he had seen other teammates do).

Next he walked over to the desk, to look at a several piles of papers that were stacked, fairly neatly. He looked around anxiously, knowing that Artegor could come at any moment and catch him- still, it was his own fault for not showing up on time, after all, it was human nature to be a little curious. At least that was how Rocket justified it.

There was nothing really in there that was most interesting, it made sense that the most important files would be locked away in the filing cabinet, there were some different strategy charts which normally Rocket might have liked to read- but not now. He also found a copy of the GF rulebook, shiny and new, no doubt Artegor hadn't had much use for one when he had been Coach of the Shadows. He sifted through some more forms, all of which were fairly incomprehensible to him, all typed in small print and phrased in fancy legal terminology. Boring.

Rocket stopped when he found something that wasn't so boring. A photograph- an old fashioned one at that, a physical photograph rather than the ones kept in digital albums- you didn't see many of them around these days and Norata was never the biggest photo fan. This photo was clearly from a long time ago, it was somewhat faded with age, the sides all tatty from frequent handling.

Of course Rocket recognised Aarch, he'd idolised him in his young teenage years, even before he had actually met him. But as much as he had (secretly, unbeknownst to Norata) re-watched old Akillian matches, it still took him a second to realise that the man standing next to Aarch in the photo was Artegor. It was probably because he wasn't wearing sunglasses and was actually smiling. Rocket wondered what had prompted the smiles, whether someone had told a joke or they had won a match- he would never know, the photo was just a tiny snapshot of a time inaccessible to him, more distant than any planet on the edges of the Galaxy.

It was nice, the photo, but it made Rocket feel strange. He hadn't seen anything bad but somehow he felt guilty anyway. Gently, he put it back, burying it beneath the random papers. Promptly he stopped snooping and went back and instead sat on the chair facing Artegor's desk and decided to wait patiently.

It was about five minutes before Artegor entered.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, I had to sort out one of Micro-ice's daily disasters," Artegor said, his sunglasses masking the fact that he was rolling his eyes.

"It's fine," Rocket replied, flatly- he default tone when he was unsure.

There was an awkward pause for a few moments.

"Ah, yes, the reason I asked you here; how's your relationship with Tia?"

"What?" Rocket was startled, he hadn't expected this.

"I've noticed some tension centring around our new player, Lun-Zia, and it's affecting the way you play."

Aarch really must have been having a breakdown if it was left to Artegor to do the concerned coach act- it wasn't his usual style at all; normally he was tougher. Besides, Artegor had never seemed too fond of him either.

"It's none of your concern," Rocket replied, defensively. He hadn't noticed any tension, in fact he had no idea what Artegor was talking about.

"How you play _is _my concern," Artegor stated, calmly.

Rocket didn't really have anything to say to that, it made some sort of sense, after all.

"Just consider it what I've said because I don't want anything to hold us back in this tournament. You can go."

Rocket shook his head and sloped out of the room.

"Just like his Uncle," he heard Artegor mutter to himself.

Rocket stopped. He knew he wasn't supposed to hear that, it wasn't a remark directed at him, it didn't mean anything- but he was feeling confrontational.

"I thought he was your friend," Rocket remarked, not turning around to face him.

Artegor sighed. "He is Rocket; he is…"

'_But it's more complicated than that,' _being the unspoken words. But even Rocket could practically hear their spectre.

Rocket shook his head and left the room, heading for Tia's room. Maybe they could go out tonight, just the two of them. He didn't really believe what Artegor had said, but it didn't really hurt to pay her some attention anyways.

**That's it, it's a little bit random, but the image of Rocket having some sort of conversation with Artegor just stayed in my head for some reason. Also, between this and the Aarch Diaries, I don't know why I characterise Rocket as being a bit of a snoop- perhaps Tia's inquisitiveness has worn off on him a little. Also, Artegor being the sort of person who keeps photos has sort of entered my personal canon- he's not a big fan of posing for them, but he tends to dwell on the past. Rant over. Review please?**


End file.
